The odd Prodigy
by Eriks Little Stalker
Summary: A secreat that can change one girls life forever, and this secreat is a real nightmare. PG-13 in most chapters..
1. Default Chapter

Heh....boo!  
  
An Odd Prodigy  
  
by, MEEEEEEEEE!  
  
Note- all I own is Caitlin, Jerome, Matt, and Kara. The end. And  
  
other people...like numerous teachers and random kids. But, the rest  
  
I do not own. =)  
  
* * * * * * * ** * * ** * * *  
  
Drip...Drip...Drip....  
  
Rythymicly the tap water from the fauset driped, the sink was a pure  
  
white, normal looking. A pair of gray blue eyes stare at the water   
  
dripping...dripping...into the sink. The eyes were hidden behind light  
  
brownish red hair that hung down in a some what tangled-sweaty look  
  
as if she lived in the jungle. The girl...a frail, but lithe and strong, stood  
  
over almost hypotized by the water ponding against the sink. She doesn't  
  
blink, no...she just watches. Her light olive skin drips with the water  
  
she, only a few minuets ago, splashed onto her face, leaving the top  
  
of her olive green tank top some what damp, she sweats in her faded  
  
shorts that came up two inches above her knee's.She suddenly looks  
  
into the mirror, her reflection suddenly morphs from a rather attractive  
  
fourteen year old girl, into a burned and deformed face. She presses her  
  
palms, then almost instictly, her long skiny fingers from her cheeks to her  
  
lips, then the rest of her face. Which continues to show burns as if  
  
she were being burned alive! This realization turns into a blood curling  
  
scream which is formed by herself, screaming as loud as she can so that   
  
maybe someone would hear her? It does come true, only to be followed  
  
by dark giggling somewhere in the distance...  
  
BEEP! BEEP!   
  
Caitlin sat up in her bed! Sweat perspiring all over her body,  
  
as she shakes in fear. She presses a hand to her damp forehead, then   
  
the other one and started to moves them franticaly all over her face,  
  
to make sure she wasn't still burned. A long sigh of reliefe passes through  
  
her mouth when it really was just a nightmare.The same pair of grayish  
  
blue eys that were once terrorfied, now turned along with her shaking head  
  
to the alarm clock, that was beeping and flashing religiously.  
  
7:15 A.M.   
  
She curls her right hand into a fist and slams it onto the alarm clock.  
  
She spent some time, like she does every mourning to put off getting ready  
  
for school, loooking around her new room. The room was covered had light blue walls, filled  
  
with posters of numerous rock bands, broadway plays, and male actors. Even  
  
male models, preferabley Travis Flimmel. A very attractive blonde, blue-eyed  
  
Aussi, with a great body.   
  
By her door, she had desk, mostly for homework. It was wooden, and brown,  
  
with school books and lastnights unfinnished homework. She has enough knowledge in her  
  
to be an honor student, but not enough descipline. Which makes her laugh, since her father  
  
is a Marine Sgt. Her bed was like any other bed, on set, messy, just with Teenage Mutant   
  
Ninja turtles for the bed sheets. Hey, at least it wasn't something like that damned N*SYNC.  
  
Her concentration was broken by a loud banging sound, probably shaking the sign outside the  
  
door that says, "GO AWAY!" in bold letters.   
  
"What?" Caitlin asks, in a annoyed, tired, and whiny voice. Her eyes swell with the lack of sleep,  
  
the strange dream she can still remember clearly.   
  
She should of known, like every mourning, her mother would bang manically on the door.  
  
"Caitlin, its time to get ready for school!" Maggie Burroughs said to her fourteen year old   
  
daughter. Her dark brown hair was still in her usual bob style, since a decade nothing about   
  
her really ever changed. Caitlin was the most difficult. She was the first child, and the oldst, therefor  
  
loved to cause Maggie stress she already had with clients. After...he..came back, they  
  
closed the teen shelter, so she had to find work elsewhere. Granted, Caitlin was only three,   
  
Matt was still a baby, had to have work to support them. Though, they are now teenagers. All but one,  
  
Kara, and they don't really know how much she had to do for them.   
  
Caitlin huffed in agrevation. She floped back down in her bed and covered her sheets over her  
  
face. "No!" She whined and proceded to try to go back to sleep.  
  
Matt walked in. Slowly becoming buff because of football, he was rather a large boy of almost  
  
thirteen. His dark brown hair was spiked, as he wore just a plan white t-shirt and jeans, with dirty  
  
sneakers, granted, none of the seventh grade girls cared too much about the clothes when it  
  
came to Matt. His gray eyes looked at his mother, as when a second she bekonded him.  
  
"Do it." She simply said.  
  
As if knowing what she was going to say---or hoping, he pulls out clear-orangeish a water   
  
gun out of his pocket,dramaticly opers the door and squirts it at his older sister by two years.   
  
And like every mourning, it ended with Caitlin screetching, slaming the door in everyones faces,   
  
and glaring at her mother on the rutine drive to school. Though, this was a new school.   
  
Springwood High. She lived in the ghetto, Elm Street. Caitlin thought she was a character in  
  
Leave it to Beaver, this town was disguistingly normal!   
  
How wrong can a person be?  
  
*************************************************  
  
Authors Note: This probably isn't the greatst part ... but it's still something, right? Spelling  
  
and the other stuff isn't great, I know. I think I broke spell check, can you do that? Or, if you  
  
could, I'd broken it by now. If you give me a bad review, make it polite...and NICE. Okay?  
  
Okay. I'm not making you review, LOL It'll take effort. Something I never had.. 


	2. An unspoken name

Chapter..erm..one. Yep! *High fives herself*  
  
Authors Note: Thanks for the reviews so far! I'm bouncing in my little chair! Really, I am.   
  
Alright, this scene is about school life for our dear Caitlin! Yes, Freddy will be introduced soon,  
  
but not intill later..I want to do more background information! Muahaha! Oh, since Gaston Leroux's  
  
"Phantom of the Opera" and the ALW musical will be mentioned her so much, I do not own it! Though.  
  
I would like to cuddle up to a deformed male with great singing abilities, that just so happens  
  
lives under ground! Ahh...dreams!   
  
*************************************  
  
"1941,The german troups invade Poland..." her english teacher, Ms.Emerson, ranted on. Ms.Emerson  
  
was a pudgy women of twenty eight. No husbend, no children, just herself and the bunch of Freshman   
  
and Sophmore students she has fove seven hours out of every weekday. Caitlin sat in the desk beside  
  
the teacher, who wore plaid blue jeans and a regulare Joe white shirt. Her red hair was curled, naturally,  
  
and was hanging from a high pony tail. Caitlin liked her teacher, but she could use a slim fast.  
  
Caitlin, herself, wore a white beater, baggy camolflauge jeans, black leather boots, and a black tie  
  
to end her out of wack attire. Now, most of you, if you ever do see her, think, "Great, another Avril!"  
  
But, the fourteen year old, anger management girl would rather slit Avril Lavigne's throught than to  
  
ever listen to one song by her. Ms.Emerson sad in her desk, grading the report on Geston Leroux's iPhantom  
  
of the Operai which, Caitlin didn't mind that one bit, she was a huge "phan". She felt proud to have almost  
  
the same exact singing voice as Sarah Brightman, well, honored is the right word. So this essay was almost  
  
enjoyable to write. Though, homework is the eighth layer of hell to her.   
  
"Class, I'll pass you back your essays, if you have any questions about how I grade, I trust you should talk to  
  
me privately, other than making a scene.." she says, rising from her seat, holding about twenty five sheets  
  
of paper. Passing them out desk by desk. She turned Caitlin's over when she reached her's. Caitlin, for many moments,  
  
her grayish-blue green eyes just looked at the paper, her aurburn-browing brow arched.  
  
What the...??  
  
Now this...this was too horrible! As soon as she turned the paper around, a large, red, F was printed  
  
in the middle of her paper, overriding her work. Caitlin gaped, that bitch!  
  
As soon as the annoying bell rang to let out, finnaly, school at 3:45, Caitlin marched to Ms.Emersons  
  
desk.   
  
"Ms.Emerson?" she asks, her voice going to a deep raspy one, as if she had a cold.  
  
"Yes miss..." she looked up to see one of her younger students, Caitlin Burroughs. A student the faculty has been  
  
warned about, not because of her behavior, but because of some un-nameable thing. She was too afraid to even utter  
  
the letter... "..Miss Burroughs?" she asked.   
  
"Ma'am, I did a college analysis on the book, symbolism, relationships, you name it! Why did I make such a low grade?  
  
I used correct spelling, and grammer?" 'Take a deep breath, girl,' she tells herself. 'Don't explode, you know what happens  
  
when you do!'  
  
"I know, but I didn't find it well enough!" The teacher lied, it was an exdrordinary paper, indeed. She was baffled someone her age  
  
could write like she does, but for one simple, unspoken fact alone, she couldn't let her pass. Prejudice, yes. But the school board  
  
told the teachers not to let the family by with anything! Was it wrong? Terribly. But, if it keeps him out of the picture, it was   
  
worth doing the wrong thing.  
  
"DIDN'T FIND IT WELL ENOUGH!?!" Caitlin boomed, her anger sinking to the lowst level. "How is," she says, looking at one of the paragraphs,  
  
searching for, i"Symbolism plays an important factor in Mr.Leroux's classic story, such as Erik's mask. He hides his face, from the  
  
world, and the only women that ever received love from him, because of his deformity. Like most people, we all have our insecurities.  
  
Basicaly, deformities about ourselves in the mind, he just wears his mask externaly, as we wear our own masks internally, hiding from those  
  
we care most about, just like The Phantom to Christine."/i Caitlin places the paper infront of the fat teachers desk, irritably.   
  
"I demand you at least give me a 'C'!" Caitlin lowly growls as she says this, as if a warning for something worse to follow.  
  
"You what young lady?"  
  
"I SAID, "I demand you at least give me a 'C'", stupid fat bitch!"   
  
The teacher went from being nervous, to pissed off at Caitlin's infact lack of politeness. Almost on cue, the teacher picked up the gray phone on  
  
her desk, and began to call the only person taht could ever decipline Caitlin.  
  
"Oh hello Ms.Burroughs, this is Regina Emerson, Caitlin Burroughs' English teacher seventh period," she says, sweetly, which made Caitlin  
  
snarl. "Well, I'm here to inform you about your daughters behavior...uh uh? Well, lets just say she'll be spending a lot of time with me..." 


	3. Hello Princess

Chapter Two..yep! TWO!   
  
Authors Note: Yes, this again, don't you like my wonderful notes? I bet you do.  
  
Anyway, the true graphic stuff happens later on..and yes, Jason is in this! You silly gooses!  
  
*********  
  
It was cold...very cold. A basement, much like her houses. She walks slowly at first,  
  
the basment turnst into a seemingly endless hallway, to her left, on the walls, are black and white  
  
"Missing Children" posters, from ages five to thirteen.   
  
"One, two, Freddy's coming for you..."  
  
As if by magic, she was infront of her home, it just looked differently. Older, worn out, version  
  
of the house she was living in. Same address, 1428 Elm ST. She slowly turns around, hearing pair  
  
of little girls, adorable little girls about seven, all in white, playing jump rope in the street.   
  
"Three, four, better lock your door..."  
  
Caitlin advanced forward to them, curiously. Strange, only a moment ago she was out side her English  
  
class, as her mother had a disscussion to the teacher about her behavior. AS soon as she closed her eyes  
  
she was here?   
  
"Five, six, grab a crucifix.."  
  
This little song, what ever you may call it, seemed so haunting to Caitlin. She stops dead for a moment,  
  
as she feels something cold on her almost bare shoulder, a pare of long finger blades griped her bony  
  
shoulder firmly, but not violently to where it might leave a mark.   
  
"Seven, eight, better stay up late..."  
  
So unlike her, she felt as if she were suffcating out of her fear, she feels hot breath caressing  
  
menacingly on the back of her olive light skin of her neck.   
  
"Nine, ten, never sleep again..."  
  
"Hello, Princess..." the mans cold, dark raspy voice spoke into her hear as if a haunting   
  
melody through out her body. Her eyes grew wide, her mouths opens up as if to scream,  
  
but no sound comes out. Despite her mind telling her to keep still, she turns around to face the man that  
  
was doing this to her. He was badly burnt. He whore a simple, yet dirty christmas sweater, faded brown pants  
  
and a ferdona hat. The most disturbing piece of clothing that was on him, was the bladed glove.   
  
"Who...are you?" she lets out a breathless whisper, unlike Marilyn Monroe, she was scared shitless.   
  
"Your worst nightmare."  
  
Caitlin jolts up in her desk, breathing heavily. She takes a look around the English room, mindlessly smoothing  
  
down her hair. She turns to her teacher, and squeakly asks. "Can I go now?" Her breaths are labored, terrorfied.  
  
Ms.Emerson just looks at the child, and nods her head.  
  
*****  
  
Sarah Morrigahn leans against her locker, her maroon painted eyes closed. She stayed after to practice  
  
for band, she played the Violin. Pietro, the beautiful instruments name, was one of her only friends. She absent  
  
mindedly hums the notes in her sweet soprano voice over and over, rehearsing them in her mind. She wears a   
  
baby blue sleeveless shirt with one of those slits in the neck area, slogan: It's okay, I'm with the band' in white  
  
jagged writing. Patchwork mini-skirt and knee-high leather boots.   
  
She loved her violin, it was the only thing on this earth that ever understood her. The melody of strings, notes...  
  
Beahtoven was her absolute favorite thing to play! His music, to her, was sensual. And when she played, she didn't  
  
care about her problemes, she was in heaven.   
  
Her thoughts were interupted by a teenage girls mumbling.  
  
"That bitch...giving me a fucking F! I'll show her the unrespectful one!" No other than a pissed off, freaked out, and tired  
  
Caitlin Burroughs says on the lock bank next to Sarah's. Sarah opens her eyes, cocking her eyebrow up into the air,  
  
listening to the girl, who was a freshman, while she was a Sophmore at the God forsaken school.  
  
Caitlin complains and vents on and on, fumbling with her combination lock. "Ten...fifteen...twenty?---NO! SHIT!" the fourteen year old growns.  
  
All the sudden, a hand bangs against the faded green painted, and rusted, locker once, and as if on que, the locker opens.  
  
Caitlin looked in awe at the uper classman standing before her, smirking. "Looked like you needed help."   
  
She gives a sheepish smile, and shrugs as if nothing happened. "Hey..I'm Caitlin. You?" She asks, figuring to be nice to the girl,  
  
after all, she did have good clothes.  
  
"Sarah, want to see my violin?" 


	4. It's a dangerous game

Chapter Three. Yes, another one  
  
WARNING: Some phendolphia...sp? Probably not. Worth a try.  
  
**********  
  
Sarah ran as fast as her barefooted feet could go, her heart beating habitualy against her   
  
chest, her bob legnth, plantum blonde hair, followed by blue and green streaks was damp with sweat.  
  
Her pants hanged tangled infront of her forehead. Her sea green eyes wonder around, her silver studded  
  
eyebrow ring was actually on her eyebrow this time. Though how it got there, she never knew.  
  
She, off into the distance, hears a loud screetching sound against the metal. She all of the sudden is in  
  
a boilor room, a dim light, steamy hot boilor room, must like the old abandoned power plant thats towards the end  
  
of town. Curiously, and some what out of fear, she walks..as she walks another screetching of blades is heard  
  
in the background. This time louder---closer.   
  
She only wore a black over grown shirt, an old SOAD concert one..or just a plain SOAD one. She doesn't know.  
  
"What's wrong? The witch is having a nightmare?" a gruff, dark, gritty voice asks her.  
  
"Bastard! I'm a Druid! Get it right."  
  
Before the blades touched her stomache, her alarm beeped automaticaly, in the middle of the night like it  
  
somehow always does.  
  
Fucked.Up.  
  
She grabed a hold of her cross. It was true, she lost her faith in God two years ago, but she feels that  
  
it was for the best. But somehow, she clutched the cross, her Nana's cross, to her chest, not for faith or prayer  
  
, but for comfort. Her nana always was good at that.  
  
All of the sudden, she felt arms come around her, pulling her back to the bed, roughly and forcingly.  
  
"Miss me, bitch?" The gritty voices asks as he pins the sixteen year old down to her messy bed, straddling her. He leans over  
  
her, slowly, towering over her inches abover her lips. "Did ya?" He asks, slowly, and tauntingly, he lickes her bottom lips. Savoring her  
  
youth, her chasity. Yes, Sarah, the rebel of Springwood was a virgin.   
  
And he knew it.  
  
Freddy trails his hand up her night shirt, his blades cutting her flesh to her hip bone. Sarah winces in sharp pain,  
  
all the whit in the world couldn't save her now.  
  
"It always hurts when it happens the first time.."  
  
Soon, the beeping did come on, and it was 7:00 A.M. flashing. Sitting up in bed slowly, looking around.  
  
It was just a dream.  
  
Intill she winces in a sharp pain erupting from her right leg, where blood smeared her bedsheets, almost making  
  
her vomit. 


	5. New Playground

Chapter Four  
  
**********  
  
The streets of Springwood, Ohio has been silent and care free..well, other than countless teenage   
  
drunken parties, but as far as---he--goes? It has been safe.   
  
Over the years, when they tried the hypnocil, what was a 100 deaths became 20, that became 5, that soon  
  
over the period of a year became 0. Life was peaceful, and normal, for this town. The Springwood P.D. still  
  
had cases, sometime serious, sure. But never of him. To make sure no one, no one, would ever find out about   
  
the evil child slasher, they erased all records.  
  
Somehow, the pudgy, middle aged balding cacausion male, sat in his chair. Wearing a black officer suit, his officer cap  
  
on the wooden table, where there were so many paper work, all piled onto eachother like a JINGA board. He scratched  
  
his gray mustache, looking at the table, while his free pudgy hand picked up and took a sip of his black cofee. Streight.  
  
Lt. DeWitt somehow, deep in his thoughts of thoughts, knew that the nightmare will never be over.   
  
Not intill -all- the children are gone. Dead.   
  
His hazel eyes grow wide, he springs out of his wooden chair, that is too small for him, and looks around in alert.  
  
"Who's there?" he asks, in his deep gruff voice, mostly for being a recovering smoker of twenty years.   
  
As soon as he speaks the words, all the lights went off. His heart jamed against his chest, sweat perspires over his forehead down to  
  
his chin, running down his neck, he adjusts his collar, to try to breath better, or have more hair. His right hand clasps tightly over the rifle  
  
in his poket, his belt of normal weapons are layed on the desk, but he always kept an extra one, in case he ever needed it. Through his nostrils,  
  
a smell of rotten meat and a sort of stinch of death aroused through his nostrils to his lungs. He gags outwardly, fully disguisted by the smell.  
  
Unknown to the poor man, who was never married, had no children he knew of, but still a nice man. A sharp machete swings at his neck, cutting it off.  
  
Blood begines to spill from his mouth and throat, his body trembeling. Ironicly, the last thing Lt. DeWitt see's, the last thing his body can remember feeling,  
  
is when he fell against his desk, and onto his paper work, blood pouring out of his body like a foutain.  
  
The infameous killer, the Zombie King at his best, Jason Voorhesse looks down at his latest kill, with his only one good eye behind his white hockey mask.  
  
Even though, Camp Crystal Lake will always be his playground, its time to find a new one, for now anyway.  
  
Springwood would scream once again.  
  
This time, by their nightmares and while they are awake. 


	6. Faded memories

Chapter Five..  
  
Note: I'm lazy, sorry. FLASHBACKS! YAY! And, I have no idea how old Freddy was, when he mortaly died  
  
and so on, so I was guessing. =D  
  
*********************  
  
---May 23rd, 1960 Springwood, Ohio---  
  
She sat alone.  
  
It was around 1:00 A.M. Friday night, and she sat there, her arm crooked up as she layed her head  
  
sideways to rest against her open palm. She sighs, discontentedly. Her hears perk up a tad bit when the glowing  
  
yellow, red, and green juke box turns another record, and plays a song she alwyas hummed to herself in her own very  
  
sweet, soft soprano voice, Blue Moon. The seemingly lonely teenage girl, petite, only about around five two the tallest,  
  
was a gorgeous girl. Her chest nut brown hair was down, and nautraly curled at the ends. Her bangs curled just above her eyebrows.  
  
Now her eyes, they were purely hazel. They went from a bright emerald green, to a dark blue, to a brown any given moment.  
  
But either one fitted her perfectly. Her olive tented skin made her a bronze glow, and when she smiled, she already added  
  
to that glow.  
  
Loretta Rose-Marie Johnson was a knock out!   
  
But, being the only daughter to a single father and three older brothers, sixteen year old Loretta (or called Lora by her friends)  
  
never had one single boyfriend! If I guy so much as looked at her, her brothers would step in and end it! Oh, she knew that they are  
  
trying to honor her, since she was the only girl in her home. But, oh she wanted to have a boy to like her, to love her, maybe even marry her  
  
one day?  
  
And she already knows who she wants, who she has to have, whom she had to have since she was eleven, secreatly, yes, but in her mind  
  
she always said his name over and over again, loving the way it sounded on her toungue.  
  
Freddy Krueger.  
  
She remembers her first sighting of him like she remembers her own name! She was eleven years old, her mother would die of some sort of disease, she forgets  
  
what the doctor called it, with her mother to church. He had the bluest eyes she ever seen! His hair was parted and slicked back as he wore his sunday  
  
best. He was handsome! She purposely sat in the pue behind him, she wore a white frilly dress, with white stockings and white shoes. Her hair was in two french braids,  
  
She blinked her dark curly eye lashes dreamily at the then fourteen year old boy.   
  
People always said children could never understand love, that its just puppy love.  
  
Loretta knew. At eleven years old, she knew. Every day at church she wouldn't listen to the lesson, or in sunday school, she wouldn't listen to the over bearing  
  
nuns who stiffly spoke, but she would look at him.   
  
As if her wishes came true, the now twenty year old Fred Krueger walks into the diner. Loretta springs out of her seat, and places a white waitressing  
  
cap onto her head. She streightens out her uniform, which consisted of a bright pink dress, and a white apron. Slightly annoyed by her black, inched heels,  
  
she hussles to him. Ignoring the reason that she didn't have to work for another hour.   
  
"H...H..." she mentally chided herself for stamering, the poor man would think she's stupid! Oh god..."Hi, I....I'm Loretta!" she unwantingly squeaks out. Oh my! He looked myseterious and  
  
oh so handsome! Like a private detective with his ferdona hat on, and a long brown trentch coat. Behind his coat, layed his favorite christmas sweater, that he rarely washes out of laziness,  
  
and black regulare pants and boots.   
  
"Want me to get your coat?" she asks, tilting her head sweetly, those beautiful blue eyes and those lips..oh so kissable! Her bronzed skin flushes a deep red, embarsed by the though.  
  
"Mhm...Loretta." HE SAID HER NAME!  
  
"What would you like? Just some cofee or a meal? I'm off work, but.." she addsm blushing as she directs him to her booth, the one she was daydreaming in earlier, and begines on. "I can make arrangements."  
  
She was so obvious, as he took his fordon cap off she saw his face a little more. To most people, he'd looked kinda like a snake, or maybe a weasel. But to her, he was handsome. And his smile, the first genuine smile  
  
he'll ever give anyone, made him glow. He ran his hand through his fair hair, mostly bleached from the sun, though his skin is fair as his hair, he studies the nervous teenager.   
  
"I'll have cofee." He says flatly. Not meaning to, but his somwhat naturaly gruff and flat voice does that.   
  
Loretta, after a few moments of staring into those eyes, she shakes herself to wake her up out of the continuing daydreams she was having. She lowers he eyes, where her layses touched her bottom ones,   
  
and sighs. After grabing her small note book to write his order, though her right hand was shaking as she was writting, she turned her heels and left. Swiftly as she could.  
  
Her older brother by four years, the same age as Fred, looked at her as if she was nuts.   
  
"Lora, what the hell are you doing talking to him?" he says, with a greasy spatualy in his right hand shaking it to kid sister.   
  
"Billy, it's none of your buissness who I talk to! So sit on it!" She says, her hazel eyes matched his own, as she glared at him.   
  
Twenty year old Fred watched as this scene was taking place, he grins slightly, a smile for him, and looks to the girl as she comes back with his cofee. She doesn't dare look at those eyes,  
  
or those lips, or else she would melt into a puddle for her annoying brother to mop up.  
  
"Want..to.." he breaths in slightly, she had nice breast. "Sit with me?"  
  
That done it! Loretta rushed to the seat across from him, breathing heavily. She takes off her white cap, that she always wore for this stupid job, just so she can get into college someday.  
  
She blushes, and tilts her head to the side. Freddy looked at her again, she was beautiful. To him, at least, And no other person in his life, not even his own mother, stood up for him.  
  
Sure, he killed a man. But, everyone in this town knew he abused him! But, no one did anything about it. And when the found him dead, they just ignored it.  
  
Loretta spoke up after a moment. "My name is Loretta Johnson, nice to meet you...well, I already have earlier, but I didn't want to seem so square about it."  
  
Fred took her hand, that felt so smooth, her skin surprisingly nice to touch, in his.   
  
"Loretta," he says, tasting this name on his lips. "I'm Fred Krueger."  
  
Loretta sighed happily, too young and naive to know what her future brought to her.  
  
If any memories of Loretta Johnson-Kruegers life, this was one of the happiest.   
  
*********************************  
  
PRESENT  
  
Katherine/Maggie held Kara on her hip as she spoke with Tracey, a long time friend. She wore a night robe, covering her white nightgown,  
  
and bounced the three year old on her hip.  
  
"Tracey, I'm fine. He...he hasn't been around since I last heard of him. And the kids said nothing," she says. Kara, in boredom, began to pull on Katherines  
  
stray hairs that hang from her head, she wore her dark chesnut hair in a messed up bun. And little Kara spent her time playing with it.  
  
"Tracey, don't worr----Kara, mommy is talking on the phone--yeah, your coming on Sunday? No, yeah, we'll love for you to---Kara mommy is talking,   
  
its not nice to interupt--yeah Trace? Alright, uh huh, okay.Bye!" She hangs the cordless white phone onto the receiver, which is connected onto the wall,  
  
and turns her attention back her her youngst daughter. "You're a handful, you know that?"  
  
By that, Kara's frown turned into a huge toothy grin. She nods, her already squinted eyes, very small due to her disability, though she really acts like a normal   
  
three year old girl, she replies in a husky voice, which comes natural to her. "But, you love me anyway mommy!" 


	7. Auditions and Warnings

Caitlin with the abnormally wide eyed Sarah sat in the back row in Springwoods small theater. An audition for the brand new musical, first time they ever did one, was today. Caitlin looked over to her obviously disturbed companion as she leaned against the theater style velvet soft seats, putting her feet and crossing the left over the right foot on top of the other chair. "Are you okay?" The girl asks, while crossing her arms. Sarah sunk back into her seat, nervously. She wore a patched pink and black skirt, with black fishnet stockings, and black boots. Following a clear black see-through peasant vest, and a hot pink tank top. Her hair was black today, with some blue streaks through her bob style, banged hair cut. Sarah blinks her dark eyelashes, which curled ever so easily. "Fine." She manages. If you would call almost being raped by some fag in a Christmas sweater fine, she adds mentally.  
  
"Welcome, welcome!" The over dramatic, and probably gay, theater teacher announces the students welcome on stage. "My name is Justin." he adds his surname with a dramatic effect, his voice still very feminine like. "Moranthose! Justin Moranthose! And I shall be.your.director!" He finishes, taking a bow as if he did the best play in the whole wide world. He stood up straight, and clasps his hands together grinning widely. "The play you will be auditioning for is: Phantom of the Opera. Story of a disfigured man who loves a woman, who can't love him in return!" He sighs, for extra dramatic effect. The man wore a black jumpsuit, black shiny as hell boots, his neat spiked up brunette hair was too neat, and he wore silver shades hiding his blue eyes. "First, we will do." he pauses, again, for effect. "The singing first!"  
  
Good god.  
  
People of various sizes and shapes walked up the stairs to the center of the stage. All the guys had two choices: Erik's script sheet: Music of the Night. Or Raoul's: All I ask of you. The girls sang Christine's first part in the title song. Some did great, some did horrible, and others just stood in fear, frozen. This is almost what Caitlin did.  
  
Caitlin stood on stage, her mouth agape, no sound or words coming out. The over actor/director sat in his seat, crossed leg, awaiting for her to go. To emphasis his boredom, he checks his gold watch.  
  
Breath. Breath. Opera was probably one of the hardest things to learn, so much wind has to come through her throat out of your mouth. Sit up straight, drink tons of water so no sugar can cause your voice not to sound as well, and breathe while singing. Sopranos are much respected, like angelic silver bells. Caitlin had opera lessons as well as ballet; the ballet never went too good, since she could remember. Just breathe.  
  
"In dreams he sang to me," the terrified five foot girl finally let out. "In dreams he came, that voice which calls to me, and speaks my name." A mezzo-soprano, just like Sarah Brightman was. Though, she could never compare herself to her, some bid to differ. Her voice was a little lower than Sarah yet still possesses a rare talent. "And do I dream again? For now I find." Her notes rise higher, as she stood up straighter. "The Phantom of the Opera is there: inside my mind." After she did that, now was the real test if she could pull of Christine Daae, The vocalization at the end. Something Caitlin has been dreading for a month. She sighs, taking breath before she begins. It required going from low to and high e-flat, while working your way there. Now, almost anyone can hit an e-flat, but to make it un shrilled is the hardest thing to do.  
  
She stood up even straighter, running through her mind all the flats and notes then opens her mouth again. About thirty seconds tops later, her voice getting higher as she lets the notes come out of her mouth. Finally, the last flat came. The tiniest mistake could cost a lot, once it came out she was done. She sighs, breathing labouredly. She opens her eyes and looks around her. The kids, following the director of this musical, just stared at her. The first person to speak was a blue haired anti - social outcast, giggling manically. "That was fo'shezzy, fool!" She declares profoundly. The other out cast, a freshman, sat beside her. Tinier than she was, with strawberry blonde hair. "Feel my penis!"  
  
The director clears his throat. "Very nice..NEXT!!"  
  
It was so cold.  
  
Maggie Burroughs sat on her bed, shivering. She threw her long legs over the side, and stood up. She found the cause, the window was left open. Sighing she shuts it and bolts it closed. Her room was very plain. White walls, only with blue trimming. Her bed was brown and white, with a extra blue quilt her adopted mother made her when she was eighteen. She crawled back into the warm sheets, pulling them up to her chin, always so cold.  
  
The window opened again, bringing more cold air into the Room. Maggie sat up in bed in alarm. "What?" she murmurs under her breath. She gets out of the warm safeness of her bed and walks slowly over to the window. She closes it again, as it opens again. This time, a familiar burnt face pops out of the window, raising his gloved knived hand inches away from her face threateningly.  
  
"Daddy's back!" He says in his horrible gritty voice to his daughter, whose face perspired in sweat. She backed away, her mouth agape. Her normal olive skin turned pale, her hair was down, behind her ears like he remember her. Just a tad streak of gray. Her chocolate brown eyes stare at him in astonishment.  
  
"You're.I.I.killed you!" She manages at last, her feet moving backward against the soft blue carpet.  
  
Freddy, now standing behind her in a place, puts his gloved hand on his daughters shoulder, making her shiver. "Kat, you should know.." He leans in closely, inchest to her ear, his breath breathing down her skin menacingly. "I'm forever." He says, grinning wickedly, his gritty voice darkly chuckles. "Say hello to Caitlin for me, Princess."  
  
Maggie Burroughs sat up in her bed, sweat dampens her hair, making it wavy. Her chest heaved up and down, she puts a hand over her heart as it thumbs a million miles a minette. How? Why?  
  
She turned to look, the window was open. But this time, she made no move to close it. 


	8. The Magical Machete?

"He will catch you his magical lasso!"  
  
James Henton, a junior, sat crouched down as Joseph Bouquet in the rehersal in Springwood High's dirty and smelly autotorium. One of the lead baritones in the school choir, he didn't want a huge part but being in a play known as this should be exciting? With a fake gray beard and wig, some armature make up making him seem older. The six foot one crouched as if her were a toad about to pounce and play lead-frog. Sarah, who wore a blonde curly banged and curly long hair wig and a pink ballet out fit was the admirable Meg Giry. The person who played her mother, the twit Laramie stood in a black dress with a raven wig on that made her hair seem braided around her head with pale make up, making her usual baked tan face seem so fair.  
  
"Joseph Bouquet hold your tongue! He will burn you with the heat---of his eyes!"  
  
The school band started up the same theme to Notes getting ready for the end of the act, to where The Phantom murders Joseph Bouquet, Carlotta gets publicly embraced, and Christine and Raoul promote their love for one another just before the classic chandelier falls.  
  
Despite the original direction, a seven foot tall zombie stood looming in the shadows. His one good eye glaring at the teenagers, filthy as the maggots that crawled on his skin to him, as they set up their play. Jason didn't like the noise and music, His hands gripped his machete handle almost in a death grip.his mind was small, he was a special boy. He didn't know that the child murder manipulated him in the form of his dear mother just so he can kill children of Springwood, so he can become alive again, and eventually come into the world..wreaking havoc to all the descendants and to all the children.  
  
Only one thing he was not suppose to kill, which in that Jason didn't understand.  
  
The Krueger family. Now known as the 'Burroughs' one.  
  
All Jason wants is to have a little fun. And killing was oh so much fun!  
  
"It's him! I know it! It's him!" Caitlin, or as Christine Daae says. She wore a brown wig, and a peasants boy costume. Her wig was tied in a red bow, in a low pony tail. She really never acted before, but since this was a small town and not a lot of people had much talent anyways.then it would be alright.  
  
"Your part is silent! Little TOAD!" The Carlotta says, scolding Caitlin. Aidan Miller, the star who played Erik, spoke into the speakers, the only one who had to wear the same costume every scene, except Laramie of course. A regular tenor, he lowered his voice for some effect.  
  
"A toad-madam? Perhaps you are the one who is a toad!"  
  
The play was tomorrow, everyone did fine! As the ballet did a little segment of their dance, which they have been practicing on since a month ago, a loud scream was heard.  
  
That was not apart of the play!  
  
The director jumped out of his seat in furious rage! His femine voice squealed as he spoke. "That was NOT apart of the scene people!" He spoke in rage, which sounded like a hurt mouse.  
  
James Hinton was dangling from a machete, impaled on it from his mid torso. Blood tripped from his lips and out of his wound. Caitlin saw this; she was possibly the only one who did not scream. She peered into the darkness, out into the hallway, and saw him.  
  
She rushed out of the back stage area to the dark hallway. Jason stood looming behind her, His one good eye peering down, looking at her. She turned around slowly, and gasps, looking up at him with the same eyes that terrorized fear into the hearts of the residents of Springwood. A Krueger.  
  
For some odd reason, Jason did not want to kill her. Something told him, even if he tried, something would happen to him. And besides, he could tell she was an innocent. He took one last look then turned and stalked away. Leaving the baffled fourteen year old to stare, her jaw agape.  
  
But, what no one knew or could hear, in the musky dream world, a former Freddy Krueger stood, sharpening his blades and giggles darkly.  
  
"More will die, and I'll he free!"  
  
He grins, showing his black disguisting teeth. Soon, he'll see the world he longed forgot, and become a God!  
  
Egotistical? Nah! But, first things are first. He needed an alliance, someone he could teach!  
  
What would be better than his own grandchild?  
  
AUTHORS NOTE: Its finally moving into a plot! There was a plot, but I figured this would be a long story, so it took time! *She claps as though she were Mrs. Klump in the Nutty Professor* CANDIE! CANDIE! CANDIE! 


End file.
